Having one of those, oh, god, I have a body days. My teeth – since, did I tell you, the had to reschedule my appointment for next Tuesday – are just starting to bug a bit. I’ve definitely been grinding them again. There’s a whole neck, head, tooth triad that is off right now. Damnit. I’m at least not numb to my body. I’m aware of its floppy edges rather than just feeling like I am a head floating above some cold toes. Feeling a bit like, oh, okay, still fat. 6 pounds does not a summer outfit make. And I’m still doing it, I just need to get some vegetables organized and pick up some of this slack, but I’m doing it. I’m not going to fuck it up this weekend for the concert. Probably not going to fuck it up for this pizza party that the writing group (or at least 4 or so of them) want to do on the 21st. I want my fuck-uppery to be full and total when it happens. It’s not, currently, on my mind, I just know that I don’t want the cheat day to be cheated and bleed into this. I have to stick to that particular gun.
You just look at yourself like you could just will this to happen. You’re in it, you’re doing it, and you know better, you know that you’re just working the willpower angle, not necessarily taking care of all the components that could make the engine go, but you just think, C’MON, I have things I need this different body for. I have people who could love that body in mind. As though thin people are allowed to just go march in to the lives of strangers and demand affection. Only they are. Only all of us are. Nobody’s not allowed to advocate for their own needs. But if you watch the game’s to and fro for a while, you do see the mathematics, the likelihoods, and then you see that the math brings a sort of pain with it when you’re on one side or the other of the equation. It’s not more or less pain, it’s just put together differently and I guess, all I’m saying is, I want to know what x is. And x is not on my side.
Tomorrow, a funeral. Writing group, A work stress that lingers. I tried to redo the ceremony that led me to the book thief, but that didn’t happen. I think worries seem to keep the dreams at bay. I am trying to just be sunnier. But the snow finds me in the morning. I’m shaking it off. I am good. I just know my patterns and I am petrified of my own lackadaisical belief in things turning out okay. Because okay and what I’m going for are two different things.
I did ten sit-ups. I put the ukulele under my hands again even though it still hurts quite a bit, but the muscles do remember C and G and D. I keep wanting to get up at seven in the morning and being ready for daylight.
…ah, and then, and then, and then…